


Five Times Methos Met the Leverage Crew

by Tygermama



Series: Tygermama's Five Times Fics [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Leverage
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygermama/pseuds/Tygermama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five ficlets showing the five times Methos met the members of Leverage, set mostly pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alec Hardison

An insistent knock on his door woke Methos from his sleep. The knock echoed painfully in his skull. Immortal constitution might mean he couldn't get hung over but it did nothing to help an alcohol-induced dehydration headache. He pulled his pillow over his head.

The knocking persisted. It was the most precise, almost prissy, knock Methos had ever heard.

_I thought Mac was still in France?_

He threw back the covers and got out of bed, the drum-like throbbing in his head starting to feel like a gong. The clock on his bedside table read "8:32 am".

_On a fucking Saturday!_

Methos angrily undid the locks on his door and whipped it open.

"WHAT?" he screamed at the people on his front doorstep

The early risers were a little black boy in a beige linen suit and a red bow tie with white polka dots, and a middle aged woman in a poorly fitting floral dress. They were holding copies of _The Watchtower._

_Bloody hell!_

"Good morning, sir! We were wondering if you had the time on this beautiful morning to talk about the Good Lord?" the little boy said, a bright, wide smile on his face. The boy's entire bearing radiated the malicious good cheer and helpfulness of someone who does not have a hangover harassing someone they think does. Methos would have appreciated his mischievousness more if it weren't directed at _him_.

The woman was standing there, panting slightly and trying to catch her breath. Methos noted that her face was flushed and her pupils were dilated. He wondered if she was about to have a heart attack when he realized he was standing in the doorway in nothing but his red heart boxer shorts, his hair in rumpled disarray. He instinctually flexed his muscles and slouched against the doorframe in a seductive manner that had never failed him before.

It didn't fail him now. The woman's face grew even redder as her eyes darted all over the porch, desperately trying not to look anywhere near Methos.

_You woke me up, woman. Now you have to pay the price._

"Now Alec, dear, I think we woke this poor man up. We should probably let him get back to bed. It is awfully early." She said, clutching her pamphlets hard enough to crumple them.

Alec looked back over his shoulder at her and said, "But I thought there was always time to talk about the Lord and His Works?" He turned back to Methos and asked, "Don't you think so, sir?" Alec's tone was disingenuous and his eyes sparkled with humor.

Methos decided he liked this kid.

"You know? You're absolutely right! It's about time I gave my immortal soul the consideration it deserves. Please come in! I'll make us some coffee. Do you drink coffee, young man?" Methos stepped back and waved the two of them into his house. As the woman passed, he gently ran his hand down her back, making her shiver.

_Don't worry, madam, in the unlikely event I do give you a heart attack, I am a doctor._

"I'm Adam. Why don't you two sit at the table here and I'll get us some breakfast. So what good news do you have for me today?"


	2. Sophie Devereaux

Methos is relaxing by the pool at his favorite luxury resort in Brazil when he sees her.

_Trouble._

She's lounging indolently at the bar, fashionably topless, running a practiced eye over the crowd and playing with the fruit in her drink. Thick, wavy hair, dark sultry eyes…

_Beautiful breasts. Don't think I've seen breasts like those in a couple of centuries at least._

She's definitely a grifter or thief of some sort. He's had too much experience watching Amanda on the prowl, hell to much experience _period_, to not know one when he sees one.

He can see her sizing up every man who looks her way, separating the wealthy wheat from the pretending chaff. She has completely mastered using her body, subtly changing her posture from welcoming to unapproachable without seeming to do anything. The poor fools sniffing after her have no idea the kind of predator they're dealing with.

_If I didn't know Amanda couldn't have children…_

Obviously she's on vacation from some spectacularly successful con. There's a sleek, self-satisfied air about her that he knows well. He's felt it himself on many occasions. It's a heady sensation, practically addictive.

Of course, the fact that Methos remembers watching a news story about a certain "Princess Magda of Slovenia" receiving a very large check for the "Trans-Ukrainian Oil Pipeline" helps his quick identification. The $355,000 payout sticks out in his mind too.

_I wonder if she still has that tiara._

And she is bored. Very bored. There's an edge to her motions when she thinks no one's looking. A restlessness and impatience that shows in her eyes. Methos is sure he's the only one who notices.

Methos knows from experience that it's the kind of bored that's about to cost him a lot, both in money and aggravation.

Methos walks up to the bar, orders a glass of wine and smiles slowly when their eyes finally meet across the bar . He knows it's one of his best, most inscrutable, most challenging smiles. He's had a lot of time to practice it. She smiles back, two predators acknowledging each other.

Methos raises his glass in salute.

_Thank God, you're here. As it just so happens, I'm bored too._


	3. Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parker never tells Methos her real name, she tells him her name is "Paulina". Which is okay, because Methos never tells Parker his real name either. :D

_"Ah, Paris."_ Methos smiled and sighed in contentment. Some days he hated this city but today was one of those times he swore he would never leave.

Barring the usual, "I've lived here thirty years and haven't aged and my neighbors just bought pitchforks" concerns, that is.

It had been a good day and was promising to become a good night as well. The evening sky was clear, the air crisp and clean but not cold. Some may swear by Paris in spring but Methos found he preferred autumn. If only because there were fewer tourists butchering the language.

Methos continued to ramble along the streets, thinking to eventually make his way over to the Louvre. The scenery at night was exquisite. The architecture of both the Pyramid and the Louvre itself brought back a lot of memories. Some of them ones he actually liked to be reminded of. The Louvre was always a good place to go when you couldn't think of anything else to do.

Once, while very bored, Methos had tried to investigate the urban legend about the Pyramid having 666 panes of glass. Counting all the panes had proven to be impossible, between security guards giving him the evil eye and tourists asking him to take their picture, he lost count and restarted over ten times.

That he was bored enough to even contemplate this undertaking was somewhat of an embarrassment.

It had paid off in the end.

A sweet little Japanese architectural exchange student with an atrocious accent had asked him for directions. He spent the next four months showing her around Paris and teaching her…

Well, everything she asked him to, frankly.

"Merde!" a soft feminine voice muttered.

Methos looked around for the source of the voice.

Half-hidden in an alley Methos spotted a petite blond, dressed all in black, struggling to load a crate into white catering van. The crate was tall and wide, but very narrow. Just the perfect size for a painting.

"Amanda?" he whispered to himself, grinning. _Wait. Can't be her. I would have felt her quickening blocks ago. I wonder who you are, out here by yourself in the middle of the night?_ Methos cautiously made his way down the alley, staying in the shadows. Chances were good she was a thief. Not many people moved painting-sized crates in dark alleys in the middle of the night. Thieves were never boring in his experience and getting the drop on one was always amusing. He was relishing this opportunity.

_Which doesn't mean I shouldn't be careful._ Methos frowned. He loosened his sword but didn't draw it and stepped out from the shadows.

"May I help you, miss?" he said in French.

The woman yipped a little, dropped the crate and whirled around, hands up in the guard position.

She was young, blond, and pretty, with a feral look in her eyes. Methos raised his hands and took one step backward.

"I just saw you having a problem getting your crate into the van and wanted to offer my help. I mean you no harm. My name is Stephen. What's yours?" Methos waited patiently for a response, hands still in the air.

The blond took a step back of her own, dropping her hands to her sides, a puzzled look on her face. "I'm Pa… Paulina. You want to help me?" she asked, her French harsh and thick with a Quebecois accent.

"May I put my hands down?" Methos asked, wiggling his fingers. _Paulina? I doubt that's your real name, dear._

The girl thought this over for a few seconds before nodding her assent.

"Thank you." Methos said. "All I want is to help. Nothing creepy, I'm not an axe murderer. As you can see, I don't even have an axe."

"No, you don't have an axe," she said, tilting her head to the side in a charmingly bird-like gesture, "But I'm pretty sure you have a sword hidden in your coat. Are you going to try to kill me with it?"

Methos smiled through his shock. _She's good, very good. Lying is not an option. She'd know and she'd bolt._ He smiled and nodded, "As a matter, I do have a sword on me, but it's strictly for protection."

Paulina frowned even harder, "Protection from what?"

"From people who are after my head." Methos said. He watched the expressions flutter across her face as she processed what he had said.

"You aren't lying. Why aren't you lying?" Methos watched her hands as they drifted to her waist, where he was sure she had something that would painfully incapacitate him stashed.

"I know you would be able to tell if I lied to you, so I'm not. When I first saw you I thought you were my friend, Amanda, who's also an… _artist_, and I wanted to sneak up on her. Then I realized you weren't her and decided to talk to you. And you still do need help with your crate." Methos put his most harmless expression.

"Amanda? Artist?" the girl's expression was really confused now and she was looking at Methos like he was possibly insane. Methos glanced meaningfully at the crate on the ground.

Paulina looked at him, looked at the crate and looked back at him, "Oh! Yeah! Cause I'm an artist! An artist who does arty things, definitely art." She started to laugh, loudly and nervously.

"Well, I suppose you could be a thief," Methos said innocently, curious to see what her reaction would be.

Paulina got a hunted look on her face, "If you think I'm a thief, why are you offering to help me?"

"Like I said, you remind me of my friend, Amanda." Methos said simply.

Paulina started at him. "You know, I've heard of an Amanda, who was an 'artist'. I always thought it was an urban legend."

"You've heard of her?" Methos asked, eyebrows raised. _Amanda must be slipping up somewhere if she's become a 'legend.'_

"Well, yeah. Everyone's heard of 'Amanda'. That name's connected to thef… art…" Paulina stumbled over her words.

Methos smiled. "Some people say theft is a form of art. The planning, the execution, the dedication to the work necessary to become truly great…" Methos's voice trailed off.

Paulina bounced a little, "Yes! An art! And Amanda's name is connected with some truly… breathtaking works of art. Going back hundreds of years. So she can't possibly exist. Unless she was immortal or something…" Paulina's expression turned thoughtful.

_Oh, shit._ Methos thought, trying to figure out the right tack to take to convince her that immortality was just a story.

"Well… It could work… If Amanda was like the Dread Pirate Roberts…" Paulina's voice was still far away, lost in thought.

_Like who?_ Methos was confused. He knew, or at least knew of, a lot of pirates and he didn't remember one with a moniker as pretentious as that. _Oh, right. That silly movie… I am going to be able to tease Amanda about this for centuries._

"Yeah… One Amanda works until she's ready to retire… finds an apprentice… trains them up… introduces the new one as 'Amanda'" Paulina's voice grew more and more thoughtful as she outlined her scenario. "And there's just one Amanda after another!"

Methos breathed a sigh of relief. _Well, it actually is a pretty good story. And she already half-way believes it…_

Paulina glared at Methos suddenly, "Do you know her? Amanda? Is she real?"

"Yes, she's real. I could introduce you, if you like." Methos said, wondering what this girl would do next.

Paulina glared at him a little bit more and sniffed. "No. I don't want you to. I have my own name, I don't need anyone else's. But you can still help me with the crate, if you want."

Methos bowed to 'Paulina' with a flourish and said, "As you wish."


End file.
